‘For Mrs Lescroit?’ Emily surmised.
Ros smiled. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t for Mr Webber. Anyway, Dr Freeling went up and there was all sorts of confabulation, but Mrs Lescroit insisted the police must be called and even the brandy wouldn’t change her mind. So Mr Rogers got taken away. He looked terribly shocked. Claimed it was all a mistake. Well, he would, wouldn’t he?’
‘There must have been a terrible scandal,’ Emily suggested.
‘Well, there was and there wasn’t. Of course, everyone in the business knew about it, and there was some stuff in the papers, but not nearly as bad as it might have been. In the end Mr Webber got it all hushed up, Mrs Lescroit agreed to a large lump sum and there were no charges. We were all sworn to secrecy – not that we’d have talked anyway. You don’t keep your job in Harley Street if you’re thought to be a blabber. There had to be a GMC enquiry, of course, but Mr Webber was very well in with them and he squared it so that in the end Mr Rogers wasn’t struck off, provided he didn’t work with patients any more.’
‘What can a doctor do that doesn’t involve patients?’
‘Oh, lab work, research, lecturing, that sort of thing. Pharmacology. Pathology,’ she added with a twinkle. ‘I’m pretty sure Mr Webber fixed him up with something – they were great friends after all. I have an idea he became a rep for a pharmaceutical company, but I’m not sure,’ she finished vaguely. ‘He left our building and I didn’t really keep up with him. And not long after that Mr Webber left as well. We got new people in, but I think the upset had been too much for my dear old Dr Freeling because he decided to retire – but not until he’d got me an interview for another job, round the corner in Devonshire Street. That was the sort of man he was, bless him. A real old-fashioned gentleman.’
‘So everyone came out of it all right,’ Emily mused. ‘Quite an operator, your Mr Webber.’
‘Not my Mr Webber,’ Ros objected. ‘But yes, he’d have made a great diplomat. He was the great fixer. Probably still is – don’t know why I’m talking about him in the past tense. Not like poor Mr Rogers. What a terrible thing – have you any idea why he was killed? One of those drug-crazed burglars, I suppose. You hear about it all the time these days, though somehow you never expect it to be someone you know.’
‘So were you surprised at what Mr Rogers had done?’ Emily asked, avoiding the question. ‘He was a bit of a ladies’ man, I gather?’
‘Well, yes,’ she said cautiously, ‘but you couldn’t help liking him. And it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d expect of him. I mean, he was so attractive he could have had anyone he wanted – he didn’t have to resort to groping patients. I know he was married, but there was plenty of talk about him having lady-friends. In fact –’ she lowered her voice and her head and looked at Emily from under her eyebrows – ‘there was a rumour going round that he was having an affair with Eunice, his nurse, at the time, though I don’t know if that was true or not.’ She straightened up. ‘Given what a tartar his wife was, it was hard to blame him.’
‘You knew her?’
‘Oh, not really – only seen her once or twice, but she didn’t look the sort to enjoy a cuddle and a giggle. Terribly high-nosed and haughty. Always looked down her nose at us mere minions. Though I suppose she had other qualities he married her for.’ She sipped her water. ‘But still, I was surprised that he messed about with Mrs Lescroit like that. He wasn’t a bottom-pincher, in the usual way of things. At least, Eunice and Anthea, his secretary, had no complaints about him. Mr Webber was the one you didn’t want to get in a lift with on your own. He was one of those people who always managed to accidentally brush against you as you passed, you know what I mean?’
‘All that sort of thing’s illegal now,’ Emily pointed out.
‘Oh, I know, but consultants are different. They’re so powerful, and they all stick together like one big club. You’d have to be very brave to stand up to one of them, if you’re just a lowly nurse or secretary.’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it was a bit ironic, really, for Mr Rogers to get caught like that on the very day his wife’s in the building.’
‘She was?’ Emily said in surprise.
‘Yes, she’d come to see Mr Webber about some charity thing she was involved with. Stephanie told me. Hoping to touch him for some money for it, apparently. I saw her go up just before it happened.’
‘So she was with Mr Webber when it started?’
‘She was waiting for him in his office – or in Stephanie’s room, rather. Mr Webber had gone to the gents or something. He was on his way back when the fuss started.’ She sighed. ‘Poor Mr Rogers. His wife divorced him not long after that, and I suppose that was what triggered it. I know it was a terrible thing for him to do, and that he was lucky not to have been struck off, but I must say, I’ve always wondered whether Mrs Lescroit made a mistake – she was only half awake, and a bit dopey from the Valium. Maybe she saw him leaning over her and just imagined the touching. And because of her Mr Rogers lost pretty much everything, his wife, his house, his career, everything.’
‘And now his life,’ Emily murmured.
‘You don’t think that could have had anything to do with the Mrs Lescroit thing, surely?’ Ros looked startled. ‘It was so long ago.’
‘No, I don’t suppose a vengeful husband would wait ten years to make the point,’ Emily said.
‘And as I remember, Mrs Lescroit was a divorcée, anyway,’ said Ros.
‘So, if you were all sworn to secrecy,’ Emily asked, ‘how did it get into the papers?’
‘I didn’t say anything,’ Ros said stoutly. ‘If Mrs Lescroit had accepted money, I didn’t see it was anyone else’s business to blow the whistle. I suppose she might have talked, even so – told her best friend or something.’ She thought a moment. ‘Or maybe it was Eunice. I know she wasn’t happy about it being hushed up. Mr Webber had her in his office for ages, according to Stephanie, talking to her a like a Dutch uncle. And soon afterwards she left – got a more senior position at some private hospital, according to Anthea, with much better pay. Stephanie always reckoned Mr Webber got her the job to shut her up.’
‘It was a lot of trouble to go to for Mr Rogers.’
‘Well, they were friends from way back. And, like I said, he was a man’s man.’
‘Do you know what hospital it was?’
‘That Eunice went to? No, not offhand. I didn’t really see her after that day. Well, Mr Rogers wasn’t seeing any more patients so he didn’t need a nurse. And she had holiday entitlement to use up, so she took that instead of notice.’
‘I wonder if Stephanie would know.’
‘I shouldn’t think she knew any more than me. But in any case, you can’t ask her,’ Ros said, ‘because she’s not around any more. She was in an accident. She got knocked down and killed on her way home late one night.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Emily.
‘It was an awful thing,’ Ros said, staring at her hands. Here at last was something that could disturb her professional composure. ‘It was a hit-and-run driver, so they never even found out who did it. Not that that would have brought her back, but at least it gives you a sense of—’
She paused so long that Emily felt obliged to suggest, ‘Closure?’
She looked up. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s what it is. It doesn’t make the thing right, but it allows you to move on.’
‘What about Anthea? Would she know anything more?’
‘I don’t know. She emigrated to Australia soon afterwards, and I’ve never heard anything from her since. So what’s your interest in this old story? It isn’t much of one, really. Is it just because poor Mr Rogers is dead?’
‘That’s right,’ Emily said. ‘I thought there might be something I could work up – not straight away, of course – that would be in bad taste – but eventually. Something about the playboy doctor brought low by a single fleeting impulse. But I’m not sure, now, that there’s really an angle to work from.’
�
�No, it’s all rather sad and sordid,’ Ros agreed. ‘I feel a bit guilty now for wasting your time.’
‘On the contrary, I feel I’ve wasted yours,’ Emily said, not to be outdone in gallantry.
Ros smiled. ‘Oh, I’ve enjoyed it. It’s nice to get out for lunch once in a while. I usually just have a yogurt and an apple at my desk. Very dull. It’s nice to have someone to talk to for a change. I googled you, after you telephoned me, you know,’ she confessed, ‘and read a couple of your pieces. You’re quite a writer! I always wanted to write. I think I could have been good at it if I’d ever had the chance.’
So for the sake of the cover story, Emily let her wander down that byway, talked about a journalist’s life, and encouraged her to start jotting down ‘some of the funny things I’ve seen’ that would ‘make a terrific novel’; and this beguiled the time until suddenly Ros looked at her watch and jumped up and said, ‘Oh, my God, I shall have to dash! There are very old-fashioned looks given if one dares to be even a minute late. Thank you so much for lunch. It’s been lovely meeting you. And if you do decide to write the story, I’d love to see a copy.’
‘I’ll send it to you first, to check the facts,’ Emily promised her solemnly.
She told her story to a small audience over tea and buns back at the station.
‘She was there at the time?’ Swilley exclaimed. ‘Amanda Whatserface? And she never said a word about it?’
‘Maybe she’s just too ashamed,’ Emily said. ‘Can’t bear talking about it. It needn’t be anything sinister.’
‘Maybe she’s just too arrogant to talk about it,’ Connolly suggested. ‘People like her don’t like talking about their private lives.’
‘It all sounds a bit strange to me,’ Slider said thoughtfully. ‘Why would Rogers suddenly turn into a groper?’
‘You don’t know it was sudden,’ Swilley said. ‘Only that he hadn’t got into trouble for it before. He was a ladies’ man, everyone says so. Maybe he just couldn’t resist it whenever he saw it.’
‘Well, I don’t know that it’s got us any further forward,’ Slider said, dissatisfied. ‘Except for knowing that Amanda was right there on the spot – which must have made the shock and anger greater.’
‘And this Mr Webber comes out as the good guy,’ Swilley said. ‘Helping his mate out of a jam.’
‘Maybe he was just trying to save the reputation of the practice,’ Connolly said. ‘Doesn’t mean he’s a heart of gold.’
‘But still, there’s something odd about it,’ Slider murmured, deep in thought. He roused himself to praise Emily. ‘You did a good job.’
‘Thanks.’ Emily looked pleased. ‘I’d better get off, now. I have to get on with my Irish story for the Sundays. But I’ll get these notes written up this afternoon and email them to you straight away. And, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll look into these other two women who were on the spot – Eunice and Anthea. Maybe they’d have a different take on it, if I could track them down.’
ELEVEN
Penguin Gavotte
Frith was looking troubled and anxious, but as soon as Slider appeared he chose indignant as his motif du jour.
‘Look, what the hell’s going on? I’ve got a business to run. I can’t keep running back and forth to Shepherd’s Bush. What is it you want that’s so urgent?’
Slider tried direct for his. ‘Your fingerprints.’
Frith’s hairline slid back. ‘What? You’re joking! My fingerprints? For Christ’s sake, you can’t really think I had anything to do with David’s death. Why on earth would I kill him?’
‘You didn’t like him,’ Atherton answered over Slider’s shoulder.
Frith only looked angrier. ‘What was there to like? He was a smarmy womanizer who made Amanda’s life miserable, but it’s murder we’re talking about. You don’t just murder someone because you don’t like them. Ordinary people don’t kill other people anyway. What world are you people living in? I wouldn’t murder my worst enemy, let alone—’ He ran a distracted hand backwards through his hair. ‘I mean, come on! This is not the Wild West.’
‘We want your fingerprints in order to eliminate you from our enquiries,’ Slider said, cutting through the whirlwind.
‘Oh.’ Frith jolted like a man who has gone up the step that isn’t there. He took a beat to think, and then came back with a revival of resentment. ‘I don’t understand why you should ever have considered me anyway. What did I ever do to have the police on my back for this preposterous notion?’
Preposterous. Slider liked it. A bit of hedgication never done no one no ’arm, he thought. ‘There were some superficial reasons for taking you into consideration,’ he said, the still, small voice of calm. ‘At the beginning of an investigation like this we have to take the broadest view and gradually whittle it down. I’m sorry you have been inconvenienced, but your fingerprints should settle the matter and we won’t need to bother you again.’
‘I’ve a good mind to refuse,’ Frith said sulkily. ‘The idea that you should ever have considered me . . . What were these “superficial reasons”?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t go into that at present.’
‘And you’ve caused me no end of trouble. People in Sarratt are looking at me sideways, I have three cancellations, and – what the hell did you say to Amanda? She’s been giving me the silent treatment, looking at me as if—’ Something occurred to him. ‘You didn’t tell her about Sue?’
‘No,’ said Slider. ‘We haven’t spoken to her since you last came in. But before that we had asked her to confirm what time you left in the morning on Monday, because you had told your employees you were working from home and then going to an appointment.’
‘You told her that? Oh God!’ He buried his face in his hands. ‘No wonder she’s so frosty with me,’ he said, muffled. ‘What a mess!’
Slider was interested. ‘You mean she hasn’t spoken to you about that? About your whereabouts on Monday?’
Frith shook his head. ‘Biding her time,’ he mourned. ‘She’ll hold back until she’s ready, and then pounce.’ He emerged from his hands and stared gloomily at Slider. ‘Oh well, since you’ve already ruined my life, you might as well have my fingerprints and get it over with.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Slider said. ‘It won’t take a minute. If you’d come this way, please.’
Frith got up and followed him. ‘It wasn’t me, you know,’ he said. ‘I’m the last person. I’ve shot plenty of birds in my time. I even had a go at shooting wild pig when I was over for the Atlanta Olympics. But I could never shoot a human being – not deliberately.’
‘That’s interesting. I didn’t know you were familiar with firearms,’ Slider said.
‘Oh God! Now what? You’re not going to—?’
‘Don’t worry. As a matter of fact I think that if you had killed David Rogers in cold blood, you would have supplied yourself with a better alibi.’
‘In cold blood? You mean—?’
‘It was planned, yes.’
Frith was silent as they walked down the corridor to the processing area. As they turned in at the door, he said, ‘You know, I’m almost sorry for him now. David. He was a selfish bastard, but he didn’t deserve that.’
‘The thing that intrigues me,’ Slider said as they went back upstairs, ‘is why Frith and Sturgess haven’t discussed this business.’
‘He wouldn’t discuss his dodgy alibi with her,’ Atherton said. ‘It would mean revealing that he had a mistress.’
‘True, but why hasn’t she tackled him about it?’
‘He said she’s giving him the cold shoulder.’
‘But don’t you think that’s uncharacteristically indirect?’
‘Too many long words.’
‘Wouldn’t it be more like her to jump on him as soon as he comes in and shout, “Where the hell were you on Monday?”’
‘Maybe she doesn’t want to know,’ Atherton said after a moment’s thought.
‘Or maybe,’ Slider said slowl
y, ‘she’s happy enough to have us chasing after him, knowing it’ll get us nowhere.’
‘We’ll never know,’ said Atherton, thinking that was an uncharacteristically long line in supposing from his boss. ‘I don’t suppose he’ll want to tell her we’ve fingerprinted him, for the same reason – it’d open up the whole “where were you” debate. So they’ll tiptoe round each other on the thin ice, saying nothing and darting frosty looks, in a sort of hostile penguin gavotte.’
Slider turned his head, and blinked. ‘That conjures up quite an image.’
‘It was meant to,’ said Atherton. ‘It’s called metaphor.’
‘Come to think of it, there is something penguin-like about Sturgess, with that long neck and long nose.’
‘Penguins don’t have long noses. What are you doing tonight?’
‘Beaks, then. Nothing. Joanna’s home. Why? Do you and Emily want to come over?’
‘Is that an invitation?’
‘Why do you need inviting? You never did before.’
‘Ah, but you’re a family man now. It’s different,’ Atherton said, and Slider realized, with just a hint of wistfulness, that it was.
‘Hello, is that Miss Connolly. Detective Connolly? I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you.’
‘This is Rita Connolly. How can I help you?’
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